Timeless: The Last Missive
by Sa Rart
Summary: Hey, all. Clarisse here. It's been a while, hasn't it? Seventy years or so since the gods fell. A year or so since we heroes emerged from the Lotus and returned to the world. A month or so since the last Titan fell. Oh - did I skip something? I skipped the story? Deal with it, punk. This is all you get. Conclusion to the Timeless series.


**Hello, all. Sa Rart here. **

**I know it's been a while. Welcome back, old readers; this starts off where Timeless left it. new readers, welcome; this is a short story to finish off a series. Read it if you so wish; if it makes no sense to you, feel free to return the fandom.**

**Rick Riordan has released some amazing books since I first started writing the Timeless series - frankly, books so incredible that I did not feel that continuing this series was necessary, desirable, or even mildly interesting. Because honestly - the House of Hades was beyond incredible. Beyond description.**

**But, at the same time, I once had a lot of plans and hopes for this series, and I was loathe to give it up, even though it's obsolete now. So this is it. The last missive. The final book. Two chapters, maybe three, and more of a summary than a real story. Just to provide closure .**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Hey, guys. Ladies. Punks. It's been a while, hasn't it?

What was the last thing I told you about? The Battle of the Colosseum? Krios's imprisonment on the Great Wall?

No, huh.

Even further.

Did I mention the Nile? The death of the Heliopolis? My encounter with Anubis?

Further still?

How about the Brazilian Rainforest - have you heard about that? No? Did I tell you about Atlantis, then? Svalbard? The End of Night?

Damn. It has been a while.

Well, then. I guess I should start at the beginning. Or at least the end of the beginning.

See, I had prepared a whole chronicle of this, from the beginning until the end. Every last story and detail, starting from the death of the gods all the way up till Kronos breathed his last. But I never was much of a writer, and some of it was lost, and other bits of it were never found. So, in the end, I decided this would be it. My final missive. My last tale. The myth of Clarisse Chaoseater, the second Goddess of War, the Messenger, the Bringer and Taker of Life. No censorship. No nice words. Just... me. Talking to you.

I last left you in Las Vegas, yeah? A rescued Bianca. A slain Titan. A continent won back for the world. Hekate was our ally; Hyperion our fallen foe. Zoe Nightshade resurrected; an Egyptian goddess trapped with the Titan within my spear, the entire Hunt and half the heroes from Camp Half-Blood smuggled forward in time, hidden away within the Lotus Casino before the gods fell and salvaged by me after the Titans reigned for seventy years. If you haven't read these tales, go ahead and find them. Their level of writing is crap, but they're interesting nonetheless.

Anyways.

Zoe was talking about a weapon that she hid underwater in the Atlantic, so we sent her and Percy to retrieve it and then sent Annabeth over to China, figuring that if Percy tore apart the world to find her again, we'd just have to put most of our enemies between the two and we'd come out on top. Bianca and I went to Brazil to raise a revolution again the Titaness Thea.

A couple things to keep in mind about Thea: she's the Titan-goddess of sight. In retrospect, we should probably have planned differently, but I thought that it was limited to physical sight alone, so I figured me and Bianca would be able to tackle it. Even if Bianca was half-crazy from seventy-five years locked inside of Talos's head and a week spent under torture in Hyperion's castle.

Like I said. Hindsight's a bitch.

She send us a goddamn invitation the second that we arrived on her shores. We were invited to a goddamn show-and-tell where she showed us, very publicly, that she had single-handedly stopped deforestation, global warming, war, disease, famine, and virtually every other malady that had ever afflicted mankind. We watched from a crowd as six blind men were led in front of her, simply asked if they believed in her, and then given sight.

Needless to say, our chances of inciting rebellion wasn't looking too good.

We were offered a chance to surrender. I refused using some not-so-very-nice words, and the punk took it personally.

The fact that I had stuck a spear through her husband's temple probably didn't help matters.

Like I said, though. Hindsight.

Anyways, she looked into our minds, dug out some nightmares, and reintroduced us to them. I killed my nightmares; Bianca's consumed her. Though I suppose it would take decades in the Labyrinth before my suffering would equate to an hour's time under Hyperion's care. But the end result was the same; Bianca was driven out of her mind, resurrected a few skeletons from the Jurassic age, and proceeded to kill a couple thousand people. I nearly killed her before she stopped, but the damage was done, and the guilt destroyed her more surely than Thea's visions ever could.

I left her in Iris's care and confronted Thea myself - and promptly discovered that Iris had been a priestess of Thea. That her longing to meet with her long-lost goddess and namesake Isis had become an obsession, and she had begged Thea for the Sight she would need to find her goddess. And when Iris finally found Isis, it was inside of me. A Greek. A stranger.

On one hand, I can understand jealousy and helplessness. That didn't stop me from reintroducing the two of them, goddess and priestess alike - namely by pinning Iris to the wall with the spear imbibed with her goddess's life force. A fitting end, I thought. Percy tells me I've mellowed, but I've yet to learn how to forgive people.

Anyways.

Bianca was once again imprisoned by a Titan, and this time I was left without allies in a foreign land. I did what was natural.

I killed Thea.

It wasn't as easy as that little three-word sentence would have you believe; she was doing weird shit to my vision, so I cut my eyes out of my head so I wouldn't be distracted. It wasn't easy even after that, but one golden bullet, six Hyperion-Isis-Kelli-electric spear wounds, a poisoned dart, and three wrecking balls later, she was dead and I was alive. I had smashed her pretty little white marble palace to pieces and pissed off quite a few townsfolk, but what the hell. Sometimes you gotta stick your middle finger to the world and do what you need to do.

Besides, she broke my spear. I got pissed.

Mathilda from the Hunt found me in the jungle and picked me up. Don't ask me how she knew I needed help, because I don't know either - except that I heard Phoebe call her Joan, once, and Artemis called her Jeanne d'Arc. I can add two and two.

I burned down Thea's little paradise, pissed off some more people, took Bianca, and left before the people could crucify us. I'll admit that it disturbed me somewhat - the fact that a Titan could rule so well. For the first time, I wondered if I had really done anything worth praising in Brazil.

And then I remembered Bianca with the skin flayed of her bones in Hyperion's castle, and Kronos devouring humans like snacks, and Atlas crushing men beneath the sky, one by one, delighting in their misery. It was wrong for a Titan to believe they have the right to rule; it was wrong to condone the other Titans' atrocities for the sake of her own utopia.

That's the answer I found, anyways. I'd get it if you decide something different. I'll understand. But that's your decision to make, all right? Don't listen to anybody else. Don't let anybody tell you how you should think or live. That's your decision. Not mine. Not Thea's.

I still had no eyes, but I had Thea's essence bound into my body, so I can still see. Sort of. I can't read or write or look for crumbs on the kitchen floor, maybe, but I can see forests and oceans and auras and emotions, and my dreams are more vivid than they've ever been. Which is both good and bad, I guess.

Good, because I could _see _everybody without trekking all over the world. I could see everything, from Atlantis in the sea to Orthys on its mountain heights to the ruins of Olympus, Rome, Egypt, and China. I could see the places of power. - the cave where Pan drew his last breath, the dark canyon where the Omphalos stone rests - everything. I could see the power of the sleeping gods of old - the monsters that appeared when Tartarus dreamed, the life-force of Gaia that pushed grass and trees up from their roots, the waypoints from which time flowed at Chronos's beck and call.

You know one of them, at least. The Lotus Casino. It's a point in time where time itself fluctuates - and it's one of the more stable points. Atlantis is another, and you should hear the tales that Percy and Zoe could tell. Notre Dame Cathedral is another - a scary one, too. It's an infinite space where time loops and swirls, once activated - Soaron, that obnoxious son of Hecate we picked up years ago, managed to trap Atlas inside of it. Annabeth did the same thing to Krios at the a Great Wall of China, but about then the a Titans started to realize that even they were helpless against the dormant powers of the old gods, so they got a bit more cautious. We regrouped.

We went to Egypt next. We met the gods. God, anyway. There's only one who's left, and that was Anubis, the Caretaker of the dead. He waits in Horus's tomb - I don't know what for. He never spoke a word to us. Just stared. Maybe he knew that the spear that had contained Isis was broken. Maybe that was an accusation leveled at me through his jackal's eyes.

And if maybes were drops of water, I could drown the world.

Speaking of which. Percy.

He didn't like the sword.

Four thousand years, a brush with a kraken, several Titans, and gods know what else - and he decides that he doesn't like it. The balance is off, he says. Despite the fact that it can shapeshift.

I don't think I've ever seen Zoe so pissed in my life - and I've seen her plenty pissed, believe me. She's much quieter after being dead, but you would never have guessed, seeing her then. She was like the dragon she had once tended to. And throughout her entire rant, Percy just sat there, belligerent at first, but eventually just grinning sheepishly. There was just as much exasperated amusement as there was incredulity in her voice by the end of it.

Silena then remarked that they would make a cute couple. Then all hell broke loose.

I won't even go into details. Needless to say, our little reunion got quite nasty. Silena and Annabeth did not talk for weeks. Mostly because of the massive bruise on the daughter of Aphrodite's cheek that still could not keep a grin off of her face.

Where was I...? Oh, yes. Egypt. Horus. Anubis.

Long story short: Horus is -was? - the god-king of Egypt, reincarnated in each of the true pharaohs of Egypt. All of the greatest kings of Egypt, from those as ancient as Ramses to those as recent as Mandela - all of them carried the spirit of the falcon in their souls. But as the a Titans took over, heroes either died or became obsolete. There was no need for men who stood tall without a single weapon in their hands. And so even Horus, once the conduit between the heavens and the earth, had faded. Only two had remained: Isis and Anubis. The guardian of life and the guardian of the dead. The only two forces that humanity could still recognize, now.

I'm getting poetic. Dammit. Poetry's nice, but that's not how I want to tell this story. And I'm sidetracked again, aren't I?

Egypt.

Like I mentioned earlier, the Titans had realized something was wrong. The Western Hemisphere had gone dark - Thea incapacitated, Leto vanished, Hyperion dead, and Hekate turned traitor. Worse yet, Atlas, the General of the Titans, had disappeared, so subtly that it took days for his country to realize that the was gone. Then Krios, also.

So there were only four real provinces left, now - Australia, under Tethys; Southern Africa, governed by Iapetus; the Middle East, ruled by Prometheus; and, finally, Southern Europe, where Kronos held power, the overlord of Rhea, Phoebe, Coeus, and Themis. We decided - and by _we _ I mean Annabeth - decided that it was time to reveal ourselves. To rally the world.

We raised an army against Iapetus - and this time, the _we _was Beckendorf. While the rest of us travelled the world, he put his head down and _worked_. The result? Automatons. Hundreds and thousands of them. He made automatons that made other automatons.

We marched on Ethiopia - and by this_ we, _I actually do mean _we - _and laid waste to the land. We tore away the greenery to expose the desert underneath. It was beautiful. It was horrifying. Some men joined us; most fled from us. We felled dragons by the dozens, hellhounds by the hundreds. No Tartarian spawn could have held us back. When we finally stepped into the throne room, Silena took us all by surprise and disrobed. She ensnared the Titan somehow, catching him between loneliness and desire, lust and love. And in that precious time she bought us, we cut Iapetus and his wife Clymene into pieces and scattered them across the desert for the jackals.

That was poetic again. I apologize.

We took heavy losses in the assault, and the Titans did not give us time to recover. They descended on us less than an hour after we killed Iapetus with a fury we could not match. Thousands died. Soaron held them back while we scattered. That arrogant, selfish, son of a butch died so that we could live. It was humiliating. Terrifying. He bought us less than five minutes, but that was enough. The oceans carried us away.

That's all for now. I'll finish this tale later. Duty calls.

No. That's a lie. I just don't want to tell you what comes next.

Later.

- Clarisse


End file.
